


Caramel Glee

by Tallihensia



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Candy factory, Case Fic, Gen, Illya steaming, Napoleon flirting, Thrush failing, Waverly directing from afar, gen - Freeform, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallihensia/pseuds/Tallihensia
Summary: Deep inside the Pearson's Candy Factory, there is a Thrush agent using sweet goodies to send sour messages.  It is up to our intrepid UNCLE agents to make their way through the candy and flush out the poison.





	Caramel Glee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlintheglen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/gifts).



> A MFU Writers Survival School Easter Egg fic. For GlennaGirl, who asked for " The men from UNCLE get an assignment inside a candy factory :D Gen please." I'd originally planned to make it sheer fun but the set up got a bit serious in the planning. Case fics... Hopefully it's still what you want. :)
> 
> Cross-posted to https://mfuwss.livejournal.com/574152.html

## Caramel Glee

"That's lovely, Miss Rodan. A perfect box of sweets – just as sweet as you are." Napoleon put on one of his special wattage smiles as the elderly spinster tucked in the last few 2₵ Mints into the box. 

She giggled as she closed the box and put it on the lower conveyer belt that would take it to shipping. "Now, Mr. Solo... you go try that on young Jane. I'm too old for your tricks, young sir." She picked up a new empty box out of the line of boxes circling around and reached for the mints again. Experienced, she grabbed an easy set of four of them to put as a group in the box before reaching for the next set.

Napoleon nodded at her, keeping the smile in place, and moved on to the next set of machines on the floor. Here, the aforementioned Jane and her companion Sue were boxing the Nut Goodies. He repeated the flattery on them, with variations, and watched their work for a few moments before he continued on. As floor supervisor, it was his job to check all the work, which suited his real mission just fine.

All was normal on the factory lines. As it had been for the last three weeks. 

Miss Williard had a special carton of Salted Nut Rolls that she'd just finished putting the last box into. Napoleon ducked his head into shipping and called for a helper to get the box. Detaching himself from the work of routine boxes, the newest factory employee came with him, showing resignation for the extra work while they were still within eyesight of everybody else. 

Illya had only been working there a week, but he fit right in with the rest of the workers... other then their usual tendency to bully the new person. His accent didn't help, and Illya tended not to speak much. It did, though, give him good opportunities to see more of the various grunt work areas as he moved around with the usual rookie gofer jobs.

Once in the hallway by themselves, they conferred briefly. "I still have nothing on the floor," Napoleon whispered, shaking his head. "The girls just do their jobs. No special messages or a hint of them doing anything wrong."

"Mr. Waverly was not happy when a Thrush coded message was sent out in the candy shipments three days ago under our very noses," Illya said gloomily. "But I too, have not found anything yet. Whoever is doing it has been clever."

"And lucky. A bad combination for us," Napoleon responded just as gloomily. Mr. Waverly's rebuke had been scathing. "On the other hand, the President of Pearson's Candy Company has commended us for having a pair of spies actually doing a decent day's work in the process."

Illya eyed him askance, raising his eyebrows.

Napoleon half-grinned, "Apparently he's had to give jobs to other 'spies' before – I suspect government men. Not UNCLE."

"Ah." Illya didn't say anything more than the acknowledgement as they passed from the hallway back into the factory floor. He picked up the special box of Salted Nut Rolls that were earmarked for whoever the company President was buttering up this week, and took it back with him. On his way back, he would, naturally, also be checking it for any special messages that might have slipped through Napoleon's watch.

Napoleon watched him go, then shifted his clipboard to his other hand and sighed. Then he pasted a new smile on his face and went back to his rounds.

During the time he'd been here, he'd flattered and cozened all the women, and taken most of the younger ones out. He was fairly sure none of them were Thrush agents. But the messages going out were coming from the special packed orders, which is why he'd been assigned the floor supervisor.

At least his arm had mostly healed up from his last misadventure. They hadn't thought this one would be so tough. Illya had come in after he finished up with another assignment to give eyes on a different part of the company.

On his break time, Napoleon wandered over the mixing areas, where the huge bags of peanuts were put into the separator to pull out the bitter centers before being rolled along to their next stage. Illya was there dropping off another set of bags that had come in from Virginia. 

They paused for a few moments just to be themselves for that little bit. They traded glances and knew there wasn't anything new, so they didn't talk, just let themselves be.

Soon enough, though, the shipping boss came out and yelled at Illya to go back to the loading docks. With a deferential nod at the boss and not another look at Napoleon, Illya obeyed.

Meyer glared after him. "Damn foreigners. Gotta watch them every minute."

Normally, Napoleon would take the opportunity to tease Illya a bit, or make his life a little harder as long as it didn't compromise the mission. In this case, though, St. Paul, Minnesota was not a good place for a displaced Russian, and Napoleon didn't have the heart to make it tougher. Instead, he mildly replied, "Every time I've seen him, he's pulling his weight, especially for such a scrawny little fellow. Wouldn't have thought he'd be that tough. Now some of those others... I'd say they've got the build but not the heart." He spread his hands, "Then again, I'm not on the docks."

"Heh." Meyer relaxed, reaching up to scratch under the white hat all the laborers were required to wear. No getting any stray hairs in Pearson Candy! "You've got a point there. Hanson is forever wandering off to flirt with your girls. Keeping him on the docks is a full time job." 

He hawked in a mouth of saliva and was on the verge of spitting it out when Napoleon murmured softly, "Indoors..." Meyer grimaced but swallowed. He nodded thanks to Napoleon.

Napoleon was thinking. "Big, blurry guy, good looking but in a careless way, blond cropped short?" He didn't bother to distinguish skin as white – in Minnesota, that tended to be the norm.

"Blurry guy," Meyer chuckled. "It fits him." He shrugged. "Hanson wanted your job. Been sulking since you came in. Thought he'd get it what with the ladies and all. But 'e sets 'em all at each other's throats and counts it a good day. You're a lady's man, there's a fact; but you keep them all happy." 

With a last nod to Napoleon, Meyer grabbed some of the empty peanut sacks and headed out.

Glancing at the clock, Napoleon thoughtfully made his own way to the assembly floor. They might have just gotten a break in the case.

\--

The next day, Napoleon's communicator trilled once then quieted – Illya's signal that Hanson was on his way over. With eyebrows raised, Napoleon finished up what he was doing and quickly went back to the assembly floor. Somebody was keeping a close eye on him, to know when he'd stepped out for an unscheduled break. More proof if they wanted it that Hanson was their guy.

Napoleon stayed in the shadows for a couple minutes while he watched Hanson cozying up to Jane. Today she was working on a special case of Denver Sandwiches. Half the candy bars were already boxed and packed, and there was an open box filled but not sealed sitting beside her while she giggled over what Hanson was telling her. The man moved slightly, and she turned with him... and his hand ghosted over that open box. When he straightened, he turned and picked it up, sealing it before setting it in the case with the others, bowing at her as if he'd done her a favor.

Yep. That was it. Napoleon quickly strode forward before Hanson could leave. "I think, Miss Jane, that if you're on break you'd better clock for it." Napoleon nodded towards the conveyor belts that were still circling around with the candy and boxes. "Otherwise your quotas are going to get behind." 

"Oh!" Jane blushed bright red, and turned her back on her erstwhile suitor, her hands darting out to gather a new box and start putting candy bars in them. 

Hanson glanced downward once towards the carton, then brought his gaze back up. He grinned easily. "Sorry about that, Mr. Solo. I know you're mighty protective of the ladies, but how can I resist such beauty?"

Jane resolutely didn't turn back, though her shoulders twitched. Napoleon clapped Hanson on the shoulder. "You can resist them just fine on company time... Now I think that shipping might want you back." He steered the other man a step away. Then he made the mistake himself of glancing to the box.

Within the moment, Hanson had twisted out of the hold, drawn a gun from somewhere on his person, and stepped back out of range.

Napoleon held very, very still, spreading his hands out. Jane was still packing, not having seen what happened. Everybody else on the floor was still oblivious as well.

Hanson glowered at Napoleon, his features less than handsome now. He carefully crouched and picked up the top box in the carton without taking his eyes off Napoleon. "UNCLE, I suppose? I wondered when a new guy showed up to take my job."

Jane sighed. "Oh Mikey, you can't blame Mr. Solo---" she turned as she was speaking and saw the gun. She screamed; her hands flying to her face and knocking Denver Sandwiches off the belt.

"Stop that noise!" Hanson yelled, but it was too late. All the other assembly ladies had turned to look and the ones who could see the gun had taken up the screams even as Jane gulped her own back. 

Hanson gave it up and fired the gun at Napoleon even as he turned to run.

Napoleon threw himself sideways, knocking Jane out of the way as well. A burning pain on his left arm said he hadn't moved quite quickly enough. Napoleon scowled even as he hit the floor. That arm had just finished healing from the last incident! It better be a scratch. He didn't have time for more recovery.

Picking himself up, Napoleon dashed after Hanson. The ladies on the floor were scattering, most of them away from the gunman, but sadly some making their way in the same direction he was going. He grabbed one young lady in front of him and roughly shoved her in Napoleon's way. 

Not a bad stalling technique if Napoleon had been alone. He took the moment to catch the girl and hold her until she got her balance. Then he gently disentangled himself from her grip and continued forward. At the doorway, Hanson was just getting tackled by Illya. 

There was a struggle as they rolled together on the floor. Hanson had dropped the gun in the tussle. Napoleon casually walked up and kicked it out of the way. Then he crossed his arms and waited.

He was vastly astonished when it was Hanson who got up. Hanson spared him a brief, contemptuous glare, then turned to run into the factory section, abandoning the outer door he'd been making for.

"Illya!" Napoleon hovered, not chasing after just yet, though he knew he should.

With a groan, Illya rolled over. "Go, Napoleon! I just need a breath..." 

Napoleon took that as it was and ran after Hanson. He pulled out his communicator and set it to broadcast before tucking it into his breast pocket. "He's bypassed the nut room, turning into the mixing room." With a frown, Napoleon followed. 

The cries from within the mixing room heralded chaos and mass exits from the workers inside. White-suited figures started coming out. "He's gone mad!"

Napoleon dodged the workers and then had to hop over spilled nuts – the processed cousins of the raw ones from the nut room. Raw sugar was also spread out, making the floor slippery and requiring some concentration on his part not to fall. The great vats of melted chocolate for all the candies were on one side, and the mixing area for melted sugars, corn syrup, and milk for the caramel vats were ahead. "Heading for the caramel belts," Napoleon said, hoping the communicator was picking it up. The sugar wafers were rolling along through, plain and unadorned yet. The vats of caramel were poised on one end, turned to slowly layer out the sticky sugar over the wafers. 

Hanson vaulted over the wafers. Napoleon finally saw the exit he was heading for. It wasn't one of the big ones – must be an emergency exit for the workers if something went wrong on the mixing floor. 

Hanson yanked the door open... and was met with a fist in his face.

Illya followed up his punch with several to the body, driving him back.

Napoleon winced. His partner was angry.

Sadly, Illya was still winded from before, and Hanson fought dirty. After the initial few rounds, it was his partner on the retreat. 

Napoleon ducked back into the chocolate room and grabbed one of the great wafers. He grunted as he lifted it up, his wounded arm protesting. A giant slab of pure chocolate was no joke. 

Going back in, he raised and wacked with his tasty weapon, just as Illya was pushed back into the caramel vat. Hanson went down, and this time stayed down. Napoleon dropped the chocolate on top of him. Then he knelt down and rummaged inside the other man's coat for the Denver Sandwich bar he'd managed to keep through the whole flight. This must be the one with the code. Napoleon tilted it slightly to one side, catching the light and showing a very faint hint of a diagrammed bird over the normal packaging.

"When you have a moment, Napoleon..."

Standing up and putting the candy bar in his own coat, Napoleon raised his gaze to see his partner, who was apparently having problems climbing out of the caramel vat. The light brown, almost beige colored sugars dripped off his hair and face. 

Napoleon rotated his shoulder, wincing a little. "I would help you, Caramel Glee, but my arm..."

Illya scowled at him. He struggled, then slipped back again. The sticky sugars didn't want to let him go. 

Napoleon spread his right arm, keeping the left closer. "I've got the codes now. We don't want caramel all over them now, do we? Mr. Waverly would be upset."

"I'll show you upset, you ingrate," Illya growled.

Just then, a couple of the factory security finally showed up. Napoleon waved to them. "Ah! Good timing, boys. Could you handcuff this miscreant? Careful. He's more dangerous than he looks."

Mr. Meyer, along with a few of his boys, stepped inside the other door, all holding tools and bars as weapons. Napoleon waved at them as well. "And good timing for you as well. Could you help the Caramel Glee, there, out of the vat? But do be careful... he bites."

"Na. Pol. Eon." Illya bit out a syllable at a time.

Jane and some of the other girls from the assembly hesitantly looked in and then came closer as the security hauled up a still unconscious and now handcuffed Hanson. They gathered in around Napoleon, cooing over his bravery and insisting on seeing to his wounded arm. 

Napoleon let them, while in the background he watched Meyer haul Illya out of the vat with a final sucking sound as the caramel finally let go.

\--

"Well, that was an affair successfully concluded." Mr. Waverly closed the case file and tossed it on the table. "Congratulations for _finally_ capturing the Thrush agent."

Both Napoleon and Illy winced slightly at the emphasis. The affair had gone on a few weeks too many, and Mr. Waverly was still upset at the codes that had gone out while they were there. 

"However, Mr. Pearson, President of the Pearson Candy Company, has expressed his satisfaction with the conclusion, however little it's deserved." 

Waverly pushed a button, and Sarah came in, pushing a cart loaded with boxes of candy. The 7-Up Bar, the Nut Goodie, the Salted Nut Rolls, the 2₵ Mints... they were all there. 

Both Napoleon and Illya recoiled a little. 

Mr. Waverly smiled sadistically. "Mr. Pearson has sent some tangible rewards for his satisfaction. I thought you gents might appreciate them since you worked so hard."

Recovering his balance, Napoleon stood and strolled casually over to the boxes. He gave a smile to Sarah, whose return expression was more like Mr. Waverly's. 

Picking out the Denver Sandwich box, Napoleon pulled out one of the bars and tossed it over to Illya.

"A bit of Caramel Glee, perhaps?"

Grabbing a 2₵ Mint for himself, Napoleon escaped before his partner had time for retaliation.

* * *

END

**Author's Note:**

> For a 500 word fic, I watched a 9 minute video on a 1960s Candy Factory promotional tour. Twice. Then had it on repeat while writing and kept checking for details. What I do for fic research. ;p https://youtu.be/lwPp0_qPw6E (I also don't stay to 500 words very well. Oops. I used the 500 just on the set up!) (Well, for me, it's still short. ^^;;; )


End file.
